Author's note: The flashbacks are to deleted scenes I cooked up for TNOT Two-Legged Buffalo to explain why Artie went from freezing in his hotel suite to being quite happy and apparently warm in his very next scene.

Teaser

"I assure you, Mr West, this is hardly necessary!" The tall distinguished gentleman smiled at the two federal agents. "I'm sure the accident was merely that: an accident. To assume from such a, a trivial event that someone has designs upon my life…!" He chuckled affably and shook his head.

"The research you've been doing for the government is hardly trivial, Prof Bergman," said James West. "My partner Mr Gordon and I have seen men killed for far less."

"But it's simply absurd!" the professor insisted.

"This is a brand new field of scientific study, Professor," said the other agent. "A fascinating field, germ theory! So much to learn, so much to discover! I wouldn't be surprised a bit if professional jealousies might lead a man to…"

"What, to murder? Over professional jealousies? Really, Mr Gordon! I cannot believe that my colleagues would suffer from such, such petty failings. Oh no no no no…"

"Your colleagues, Prof Bergman, are every bit as human as you or I, and susceptible to every failing in the book, petty or otherwise," said Artemus Gordon.

"You came close to being killed when the blackboard fell from the wall during your lecture," put in West. "If you'd been standing in front of it instead of off to the side, it would have crushed you."

"And some of your students," Gordon added, "reported seeing tiny puffs of smoke come up all around the perimeter of the board just before it fell."

"Puffs of smoke!" The professor scoffed.

"Explosives, Professor," said West.

"Yes," said Gordon. "I examined the ruined supports myself. It wasn't structural failure. All the supports were blown up by miniscule charges, all at the same time."

The professor stared at him in amazement. "How can you discern that?"

Gordon gave a lop-sized grin. "By gathering some matching supports and blowing them up for myself. The type of damage matches precisely."

A look of consternation spread over Bergman's face. "I… I can't believe that. You're… you're saying that this indeed was not an accident?" He leaned a hand on a nearby chair, then collapsed into the chair heavily. "But… but that's unthinkable! Someone wants me dead?"

"That's why we're here, Professor," said West. "Your research is very valuable to the government, as is the paper you're to present next month at the scientific conference in Washington City delineating your every step in making your discoveries. And we'll be with you from this moment onward until the end of the conference to see to it that you get to continue your work."

"Not to mention, your life," added Gordon.

"But… what do you expect to be able to do, gentlemen?" Bergman asked. "If someone is determined to kill me…"

"One or both of us will be guarding you whenever you set foot out of your house. We will also be investigating to find out who set the charges on the blackboard."

A soft knock on the office door interrupted them. "Yes?" called the professor impatiently.

The door now cracked open and a stoop-shouldered, inoffensive young man entered. "Pardonnez-moi, m'sieur le professeur…" he murmured.

"Yes, yes, what is it, Levesque?"

"Pardonnez-moi, but the time, she is very late, n'est-ce pas? Will not Madame Bergman be anxious?"

Bergman consulted his pocket watch and barely suppressed an oath. "Six forty-five!" he exclaimed. "And Mother insists on dining precisely at seven. Well, gentlemen," and as he slipped the watch back into his vest pocket with one hand, he reached out to shake hands with James West with the other, "I'm pleased to have made your acquaintance and thank you for your interest. Good day then."

West ignored the proffered hand. "You don't understand, Professor. We're not leaving."

Bergman frowned. "Excuse me?"

Gordon nodded. "Yes sir, the president was quite clear. Either my partner or I is to be with you at all times. 'Glued to his side' were his precise words."

"Glued! Why, I protest!"

"Protest all you want," said West, "but we have our orders and we're carrying them out."

"Yes, I'm sure you have some inkling of the president's reputation for tenacity…"

"Vicksburg. Petersburg..."

"Mm-hmm. The president is very good at burgs, Prof Bergman."

Mr Gordon's grin at his latest pronouncement was met with a scowl from the professor, who then pulled out his pocket watch again and snorted. "I haven't time to debate this. First thing in the morning, you may be sure, I shall lodge an official complaint with the president over your – and by extension, his – insupportable treatment of me!"

"Yes sir," said West equably. "And in the meantime, wherever you go, we go."

"Rather like Ruth with Naomi," said Gordon.

This drew an even larger snort from the professor. "Levesque!" he growled.

"Oui, m'sieur le professeur?"

"We're going! Lock up!"

"Immédiatement," the little Frenchman replied, bobbing his head.

Bergman strode out from the office, shucking off his white lab coat to leave it on the coat stand at the outer door of the lab. He pulled on his overcoat, snatched up his hat, and left, West keeping strictly at his side.

Gordon lagged behind, watching as Levesque scurried about, turning off the gas lamps and several burners. "Do you want all the burners off?" he asked cordially in perfect French.

Levesque turned, a smile brightening his face. "Parlez-vous français, m'sieur?"

"Oui, oui."

"Ah, parfait!" And the two shared a spirited conversation as, at the Frenchman's directions, Gordon turned off certain burners and left others alone. Once the lab was squared away, Levesque too exchanged his lab coat for street attire and finished locking up.

…

West and Gordon on horseback followed the carriage in which Prof Bergman and M'sieur Levesque rode. And as they traveled toward the professor's house, taking one turn after another, it soon became clear that a carriage some distance behind them was matching them turn for turn.

The two agents exchanged glances, then nodded. At the next crossroad, West turned off while Gordon continued on following the professor.

West rode a short way down the crossing street, then turned and waited. It wasn't long before the other carriage passed by, affording West a brief glimpse of two women riding within it. And as it went on, still traveling exactly the same route as the professor's carriage, the second conveyance was soon, whether wittingly or not, being escorted by a lone rider as well.

It was, in a sense, a parade, albeit a small one and with a rather large gap between one section and the other. Every so often Gordon contrived to look back unobtrusively. Sometimes there were other travelers filling that gap and other times no one at all between the two carriages but he and his horse, but it was unmistakable that the second half of the parade was certainly following the first half. Gordon wondered who the others were and what they wanted.

And Jim, just behind that second carriage, looked at the wheeled contraption strapped to the boot of the conveyance and wondered the same as his partner.

At length the professor's carriage turned in through a gate and drove up to a beautiful two-storied Georgian house standing amidst well-tended gardens. As the carriage drew up at the door, even before its wheels had completely ceased to turn, Prof Bergman sprang forth and strode toward the house, calling out, "Mother! I'm home now. I do regret keeping you waiting! Mother?"

A liveried butler materialized and took the professor's overcoat and hat. "Good evening, sir," he intoned. "Madame is not home at present."

"She… What? But where is she, Weldon? We always dine at seven!"

"She and Miss Mallory went out shopping this afternoon, sir. A matter of an incomplete trousseau, I was given to understand."

"Trou… Ah! Well!" For a moment, or so Gordon thought, Bergman's face bore a ferocious scowl. But then the second carriage, with West in attendance, drove in and stopped just behind the first.

Abruptly Bergman's face was wreathed in smiles. "Mother!"

The driver of the second carriage leapt down from his seat and hurried around to the back where he swiftly unstrapped an arrangement of wheels and wickerwork from upon the boot. He then pushed that chair on wheels to the side of the carriage closest to the house. Opening the carriage door, he reached in and lifted out a dour elderly woman, transferring her with silent efficiency from the carriage to the chair.

Bergman stepped close to the chair and leaned over the woman. "Good evening, Mother," he said jovially and aimed a kiss at her cheek.

For a woman immobilized in a wheel chair, Mrs Bergman showed an impressive ability to dodge, for the kiss did not land.

"I've got the purchases, Mrs Bergman!" called the voice of a woman from the other side of the carriage. This voice was young and sprightly, lively and energetic. And shortly the owner of that voice emerged from around the back of the carriage, her arms so burdened with packages that only her brown dress and a matching hat perched atop strawberry-blonde hair was visible.

"Let me get those for you," said Gordon, going to help her. He slipped his hands under the stack and relieved her of the entire burden.

And only a moment later, seeing her fetching, winsome young face, he nearly dropped everything.

"Shasta?" said Artemus incredulously.

The young woman's face lit up in a magnificent smile. "Artie!"